


White Elephant

by HeartlessAngel



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessAngel/pseuds/HeartlessAngel
Summary: The gods have given Noctis a white elephant and there’s nothing Gladio can do.





	White Elephant

* * *

From heir of the Crown, to part-time chef, to summoning gods to do his bidding to  _ this _ . Gladio had never seen the Ring of Lucii in use. King Regis had worn it as a testament of his power, of his connection to the Crystal and the Divine. Gladio thought that, perhaps, it boosted the magic that was already there, that Bahamut had observed the struggles of the human kings and bestowed upon them a way to ease their burdens.

But this, the flayed skin, the cracks of burning light like magma breaking through rock in a violent eruption on his arm, the intense violet of Noctis’ baby blues, the ripping of power of its host, was utterly macabre.

A Magitek soldier on the fritz nearly split Gladio’s head in half. Perhaps it would’ve been for the best because then he wouldn’t have to see Noctis stop to catch his breath and then reach his hand out to do it all over again. 

Gladio cut through the MT with one swing of his broadsword. The MT broke in half on impact, its head shattered as soon as it hit the floor. He could see Prompto clutch the magazine in his hand until his knuckles turned as white as his face at the sight. Some of the robots had bits and pieces of human anatomy still left in them; this one had a femur and half a face. Less than that now. Vile pawns of the Empire who didn’t even have the decency of feeling pain when cut down limb for limb.

Noctis stumbled forward, eyes on one of the Lichts. The Ring glistened hungrily, like it knew it was about to be fed host and enemy. He held a trembling hand out, jaw set like every time Noctis fixated on something; when he fished, sparred, played.

Gladio grabbed his wrist. Noctis pulled his arm back, startled. Maybe he thought it was the Ring, its greed growing so strong it would devour his arm if not controlled. The paleness of his face was familiar, the first sign of stasis. At this stage, he’d lose focus, see more enemies than there were, stagger as he struggled to stay afoot.

Any Shield worth his weight in gold would do the right thing. Take that ring and toss it. Drop it in the heart of Ravatogh all the while shouting to the high Heavens, hoping Bahamut could hear where to stick his gifts. But Gladio couldn’t. He was trembling almost as much as Noctis, and despite his hatred for the gods that brought them here, he prayed dearly that Noctis couldn’t see the dread in his eyes, prayed that he didn’t see the quiver of his bottom lip or see through the feigned cough to strengthen his voice before he spoke.

“Rest. We’ve got this.”

Noctis smiled then. The sleepy smile Gladio had been blessed with so many times, in a world before this one.

“Here,” Gladio pressed a bottle of elixir against Noctis’ chest.

The flask broke in Gladio’s grip, and Noctis absorbed the blueish liquid that brought some color back to him.

By the end of the battle, they stood victorious. Daemons had faded, the Magiteks lay scattered and non-functional on the floor.

They stood victorious, Gladio tried to convince himself, but when the next horde of abominations came at them, Noctis used the Ring like a reflex, until he had to grip at the walls for strength to stand, as if he was ordained to fight by himself.

Once this was over, as soon as they had the Crystal, Gladio vowed that Noctis would never have to make use of that Ring as long as there was breath in his body.


End file.
